


The Bottles and the Bones of the Night

by Wildgoosery



Series: I'm With the Band [15]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Grinding, Kissing, M/M, References to Brad/Taako, Trauma, eventual OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 13:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14058441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildgoosery/pseuds/Wildgoosery
Summary: Taako returns from Refuge to find a Reaper in his bedroom. Kravitz cheerfully signs himself up for an evening of wine and mess.





	The Bottles and the Bones of the Night

Taako registers, through a haze of exhausted adrenaline come-down, the yellow line of light under his bedroom door. He frowns at it as he flips through his keys. It's not really like him to forget to put out the lamps, but then, he'd been in kind of a hurry to throw some clothes on and get down to the cannon bay. And also, admittedly, not in the most amazing headspace. Not exactly starting the latest "who knows if I'll come back from this" stupidly dangerous Reclaimer mission on the best possible foot.

So he left the light on, whatever, that's the least of his problems honestly. As he pushes the door open, his mind has already wandered on to other things -- what he'll do for dinner, whether he can even eat when he's this tired and fucked up. His whole system's out of whack from so many loops through a single hour of afternoon; he feels like his internal clock's been hit with a fucking hammer.

Maybe that's why it takes him several seconds to register what he's looking at. Or maybe it's just the sheer unlikelihood, given his situation -- standing in an apartment protected by a half-dozen enchantments, in a building the world is magically barred from knowing about, which also happens to be floating a few miles above the ground.

There's a man in his room.

Taako stops short in the doorway, hand still on the knob. There's a _man_ in his _room_ , sitting on the little couch under his window. A man in an immaculately tailored black suit, brown skin and large golden eyes, an inky spill of curls down one side of his face. Handsome as hell, the kind of good looking that stops conversations. Smiling with the innocent vague friendliness of an acquaintance who's just run into you on the street, rather than having broken into your apartment and made themselves at home on your love seat. A man whom Taako last saw on the other side of an enchanted mirror in a crystalized laboratory. 

Well... this version of him, anyway. Robots and golems and balls of light notwithstanding. 

The man crosses his legs, one elegant ankle brought up to rest on his knee. "Well, we need to talk, don’t we? ‘Cause you boys..." He tilts his head, an eyebrow arching. "You’ve added quite a bit to your death count, haven’t you?"

"Yeah, that one's on me," Taako says. Closes the door behind him and hangs his keys on their hook, automatic. Still watching the man's face. "Kravitz, right?"

A wide white grin. "That's right."

"Guess there's no point in asking how you got in here..." Taako pushes a hand back through his hair and grimaces at the feel of it. They went straight from their cannonball to Lucretia's office to the elevator down to their place, and every part of him is caked in sweat and red dust. "What is this, are you... arresting me or something? 'Cause I'm like, _super_ not in the mood right now, my dude, not gonna lie."

"Actually, I was rather hoping you might explain to me why I _shouldn't_ take you and your associates into custody," Kravitz says. "As on the the one hand, you did explicitly promise me to my face-"

"You were in a robot, though," Taako says, "not sure if that counts."

"To my robot face," Kravitz continues smoothly, "that you'd refrain from further temporary deaths. But on the other hand..." He gestures with a theatrical wince. "Paperwork."

Taako wrinkles his nose. "Aren't you a bounty hunter? Like don't you literally make a living-" He pauses. "A dying? Whatever. You get paid to catch death-dodgers, right?"

"It's messy to have to re-open a file that's been dismissed," Kravitz says with a graceful shrug. "That, and I'll admit to a certain fondness for you and your, ah. _Unconventional_ approach."

"That so."

"Besides, I expect whatever explanation you might have for dying eleven more times in the span of an hour will be more than worth the price of a lost bounty." Kravitz leans back on the couch, hands folded in his lap. "There's also the larger matter of the infractions racked up by Refuge and its residents, which I'd say must be a clerical error if I didn't know better."

"And you..." Taako chuckles, incredulous. "Lemme get this straight, you want _me_ to explain this to you.”

“Yes.”

“In my bedroom."

"We could move to the parlor if you'd prefer, this just seemed convenient."

"Okay." Taako runs a hand down over his face; feels the layer of grit on his skin. "Okay listen, I am _desperately_ in need of a shower and a stiff drink, so how's this sound. I'm gonna wash a back garden's worth of dirt off my bod, and _you're_ gonna get us a bottle of something that's at minimum forty percent ABV, and we'll meet back here in half an hour to get this shit sorted."

Kravitz purses his lips, considering. "How do you feel about rum?"

Taako grins a little. "I feel like we're gonna get on just fine."

*

It's been months since he's thought about Kravitz one way or the other. The guy really is like, stunningly handsome, but it's not as if they'd particularly gotten to know each other outside the whole bounty-hunter-bounty-huntee-showdown thing, and Kravitz spent most of that business as a golem that looked like rock salt. Like Taako had absolutely put the human version into the ol' spank bank rotation for a while, but after...

Well, after Goodfriend his fantasy life had... narrowed. And since the last night with... since certain other shit went down that he is definitely not going to think about right now, he hasn't really been in the mood to jerk off one way or another. And when he's gotten horny enough to have a go he's done his best to keep his mental images to racially non-specific disembodied dicks and get the job done as fast as possible so he can go to sleep.

Tonight, though, he's thinking about Kravitz plenty. Sure the conversation is on the least sexy possible topic, but Kravitz is _so_ nice to look at is the thing, and his voice has a sexy kind of melodic warmth despite the corny accent. He smells good, too, like rain on a dusty country road, or summer night air after lightning.

That, and he turned up with a bottle of aged rum that tastes like brown sugar and bad ideas, which makes the process of explaining what went down in Refuge a little less daunting anyway. Sure Taako was burned and blown up and crushed to death but at least _now_ he's tipsy and sitting on a couch next to a hot twink in a suit.

"Intent only counts for so much," Kravitz is saying. "The fact of the matter is that everyone in Refuge has broken the laws governing mortality, and there are consequences to such things. The mechanisms which balance the worlds of the living and the dead are frightfully delicate things, they can't be flaunted lightly."

"Okay sure but like, did anything _actually_ happen?" Taako asks. "Like did some gear in the death clock get knocked outta whack, is shit _broken_?"

"No," Kravitz admits. "But the precedent-"

Taako waves this off. "What're you gonna do if you arrest-"

"I'm not the police," Kravitz says, offended.

"If you take that whole town into your 'custody' or whatever, you're gonna just throw them all in ghost jail, right? To punish them?" Taako snorts. "Those people died over and over again for _years_ , don't you think they've been punished enough? Like come _on_."

Kravitz runs his tongue over his teeth, which probably just means he's thinking but is also blisteringly hot. "Hmm."

"And it's not like they're fuckin' necromancers, Jesus, none of this shit was their fault and it won't happen again. Like this in't a repeat offender kind of a situation."

Kravitz takes another sip of rum and taps his jaw. "I suppose you'd know," he says. "Seeing as you're a 'repeat offender' yourself."

Taako frowns. "I told you, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about with that shit. After all the crap I just went through I can absolutely promise you I'd remember if I'd died eight other times? Turns out dying fuckin' sucks, do _not_ recommend it."

"Hmmmmmm." Kravitz swirls the rum in his glass, a tumbler with the BoB logo which Taako'd brought in from the kitchen. "I've only experienced it the once, but I don't recall it being particularly pleasant. The details have gone a little foggy..."

"Huh."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, I just..." Taako pulls at the end of his damp ponytail. "You know, I figured you were like a demigod or something. Not-"

"A dead man," Kravitz supplies.

"Yeah."

"It's admittedly a fair way back on my CV," Kravitz says. "I'm forever misremembering the maths, but it's been something like three centuries since I drew a breath for reasons aside from conversation." He rests his chin on his knuckles, his expression shifting into something more serious. "You really don't remember having died before this."

"No."

"So it's your first time, as far as your recollection goes."

"Yep, total newb," Taako says, going for dry but not quite getting there.

A little crease of worry appears between Kravitz’s brows. "How _are_ you?”

Taako laughs. "Uh?"

"You've had an objectively traumatizing day in the field," Kravitz says. "So. How are you?"

"I..." Another laugh, even more transparently nervous. "Shit, I dunno. Not great, I guess? I feel like I could sleep for a year but..." He rubs the back of his neck. "Why are you asking me this?"

"I'd like to know," Kravitz says, matter-of-fact. "You could sleep for a year, but...?"

"Well." Taako looks down at his rum -- the third glass of the evening. He's not drunk, exactly, but he's buzzed enough that talking about mortality with a near-total stranger in his bedroom seems like an okay enough idea. "Gonna be honest here, friend, don't think I'll be sleeping much for the foreseeable future. Like I dozed off for a sec on the ride back and my fucking hell brain managed to cram some gruesome shit into maybe ten minutes of snooze time so." A shrug and a thin chuckle. "Yeah."

"Well, we’ve covered enough business to satisfy my superiors for the time being," Kravitz says, "so we can address the last few points another day, to be determined. That said." He smiles again. "I've got at least an hour before I'm expected anywhere. I can leave you to your own devices, if you'd prefer, but if you'd appreciate a spot of company..."

"What, you wanna just...hang out?"

"Happy to steer clear of all topics related to death and mayhem."

"Well hold on just a second," Taako says, "don't just write off mayhem as a category, sometimes that shit's horny as hell."

Kravitz laughs and makes a face. "I'm trying to picture 'horny mayhem' and all I'm managing is a poorly-organized orgy."

"One man's 'poorly organized' is another's 'refreshingly spontaneous," Taako says archly.

"In my experience, 'spontaneous' and 'orgy' most often combine into an end result of misplaced undergarments and rug burn."

"Maybe I'm into that, you don't know," Taako scoffs, "You don't know my life, _sir_."

"True, but I'm making gradual progress on that front," Kravitz says. And it's the little twist at the corner of his mouth -- the particular way it crinkles his eyes -- that really cinches it. Kravitz is absolutely hitting on him with intent.

"Hold up," Taako says, "how many fucking orgies have _you_ been to? Like aren't you a cop?"

"Not a cop, not an officer of the laws of mortals, and to my knowledge all orgies, by definition, are of the 'fucking' variety."

Taako snorts and downs the rest of his rum. "You're terrible."

"Oh, come now," Kravitz says, "I'll remind you that between the two of us, one party spoke the words 'tentacle your dick' and the other-"

Taako laughs as he refills both their glasses. "Fuck, I forgot about that."

"You make a rather forceful first impression."

"Wish I could say the same, my dude, but crystal golems aren't really my kink."

"What's hanging you up," Kravitz says, "the 'crystal' or the 'golem'? Is this more of a materials or formatting issue?"

"Gonna be square with you here, not really keen on either," Taako says, and smiles over the rim of his glass. "The, ah...current configuration’s just fine, though."

Kravitz gestures to himself with a flourish. "This approximation of my mortal form meets your exacting standards?"

"It'll do."

Kravitz laughs and holds up his rum. "Cheers to that."

And so it continues, past the polite ten minutes that Taako might have expected, the hour that Kravitz had mentioned, and well into the early morning. Most of it absolute nonsense built from rum and relief, but that's nice, really. That's perfect. Taako can't remember the last time he sat around and spun bullshit with a cute new guy, let alone one who so obviously likes him. The minor detail of said guy being Death or whatever doesn't seem like such a big deal, which might be the rum's influence but might also just be a sign of the times. Taako died eleven times yesterday, apparently it's gonna be a macabre kind of a week.

Eventually, inevitably, physical exhaustion and a night spent drinking on an empty stomach catch up with him. He realizes he's begun to drift off when he snaps back into the present after an unknown period of blankness and sees that Kravitz is watching him with a sympathetic smile. 

It's a little awkward saying goodbyes when you're sitting in your own bedroom, but really, Taako's long past caring about maximizing dignity. "'Snice of you to swing by," he says, the last vowel drawn out into a yawn. "I mean, I know it's like... work, but still..."

"In part," Kravitz says. He reaches down into the front of his shirt -- past the loosened tie and undone buttons, milestones of the evening which Taako had not missed -- and pulls out a deep red crystal on a chain. "Be a dear and lend me your Stone of Farspeech for a tick?"

Taako's is hanging from his headboard -- where he left it while he took his shower -- and he almost falls off of the couch when he leans over to grab it. He grins as wolfishly as he can manage as he holds it out to Kravitz. "You asking for my number?"

"Yes," Kravitz says cheerfully, and speaks an old word of connection as he taps them gently together. Both then glow for a moment, and once the light has faded he hands Taako's back to him. "We do have a conversation to finish."

"Mmmmmyeah." Taako pushes loose hair out of his face. "Yeah, so here's the thing, were you..." A soft laugh. "Are you thinking like a work thing or...?"

"A date."

Taako feels heat rise in his cheeks. "Yeah."

"I am professionally obligated to complete the remainder of our debrief," Kravitz says, "but." He extends an elegant arm -- slowly, easily avoidable -- and takes Taako's hand in his own cool fingers. Lifts it and kisses him softly on the knuckles. "I'm not one to fuss over mixing business and pleasure."

Taako licks his lips. "That so."

Kravitz releases his hand, still smiling. "Unless I've misread the mood."

"No! No, you haven't..." Taako can feel his pulse begin to climb; his ears begin to redden. "Listen, here's the thing...I ah." He swallows. “Jeez, I can’t believe I’m bringing this up...”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yeah no, no, it’ll be better if I...” A handwave, frustrated with his drunk-ass self for feeling compelled to say this shit; with the whole stupid situation for existing at all. “Listen, it’s not a big deal, but I kind of just broke things off with a guy I was seeing. Like a week ago. And I think I'm maybe...” He sighs, wincing. “I'm definitely still messed up about it. A little."

Kravitz's smile softens. "Taako," he says, gentle and affectionate. "I’m the Grim Reaper. Every relationship I enter into is inherently messed up."

Taako barks out a laugh despite himself. "Yeah, fair point."

"I’m perfectly content to have a pleasant evening together and see where it takes us," Kravitz says. "And if it doesn't take us anywhere, that's fine, too. I'll be glad to have tried, and I'll have had the pleasure of your company."

"Oh," Taako says -- not his most eloquent evening by a long shot. "Yeah, that's... that'd be nice."

"Call me when you've had some sleep and a meal, and we'll sort out the specifics."

"Yeah." Taako watches him rise from the couch; laughs again and says, apologetic, "I'd get up but I think I'd just land on my ass."

"I can see myself out," Kravitz says, and gestures a small pocket knife into existence with a flick of his wrist. He swivels open a matte black blade. "Take care of yourself, will you?"

"Yeah," Taako says. "Yeah, I will."

Kravitz slices a window in the air. "Goodnight, Taako."

"Goodnight," Taako says, and watches him step through the gateway; watches it zipper up behind him.

And then Taako is alone in his room. Alone for the first time since they'd all left for Refuge.

He waved the lamps down to comfortable dimness ages ago, but now the first pale glow of dawn is creeping up over the horizon, painting clouds and terraced hillsides in soft pink light. A few hours from when training would normally be, but not this morning. Not this week, if he can help it. 

He did his job. He went to the place and fought the monsters and solved the mystery and got the thing. Some fuckin’ magic cup dug around in his head; sifted through the whole of him like a stack of old postcards, upending every single thing he thought he knew about the worst day of his life. He should pull the curtains closed, and get into bed, and sleep until hunger wakes him again. He should give himself a fucking break.

He's holding his Stone. He uncurls his fingers and peers down at it blearily; notices that it's still glowing a bit, although not as brightly as when Kravitz had first attuned it to his own. Several more seconds pass before the puzzle pieces of comprehension at last clunk into place. 

"Huh," he says. Yawns again and then, without really thinking about it, says, "Play message."

He recognizes the frustrated sigh before anything has even been said. It isn't until the first full word -- his own name, spoken with familiar gruffness -- that he has the presence of mind to yell " _Stop_! Stop playing, fuck!" 

The Stone pauses, obedient, and Taako drops it as if it were burning his hand. It hits the rug with a dull thunk, and he half expects it to melt through the floor and fall to the ground miles below him.

The whole weight of what happened hits him, then. Falls on his shoulders all at once.

He died in Refuge. He _died_. And that first time he'd no reason to think it wasn't forever. That first time he felt the ground give way, felt himself fall down into the earth, felt heat and incredible pain, and disbelief swiftly dissolved into fear. Into a cut-crystal terror of merciless clarity. Afraid of dying, afraid of all his lost chances, the seconds dragged out into a slow-motion tour of regret and idiot longing. A teenager's idea of your last living thoughts. Fragmented images of a face close to his; of strong arms catching him, holding him, close and safe and off the ground and away from this. Away from all of this.

Taako folds in half on the couch; presses his face to his knees, his arms coming up to wrap around his head.

It's full morning when he sits up and scrubs at his eyes; at his wet cheeks. Swears between shuddering breaths. God, what a pathetic fucking display. The whole night spent with a hot guy who likes him, who's _nice_ to him, and this is what he's doing.

"No," he says aloud. To the room, to his Stone, to his stuffed-up nose and salt-stuck eyelashes. "Taako, you useless fucking gay, you're _not_ doing this shit."

Magnus and Merle are both rattling around the kitchen when Taako slouches out of his room, still dressed in his pajamas with his hair in a pile on top of his head. Neither of them are exactly sparkling with vigor, but they don't look like they've been run over by a battlewagon, either, which isn't so surprising. Magnus is physically incapable of either self-pity or agonized introspection, and Merle probably cast a fucking sleep spell on himself the minute he got home.

Not a bad idea, honestly.

Magnus startles at the sight of Taako's face. "Yikes, bud, you okay?"

"Peachy." Taako roots around in the ice box and comes up with a pot of yogurt and half an avocado. "Hey Merle, I'm gonna shove this whole deal in my face and then go back to bed. Do a guy a solid and knock me out for a few hours?"

"You sure you're okay?" Magnus presses, a looming bulk behind him as he gets a spoon out of the drawer. "You don't look okay."

"Calm your tits, Mags, I'm just tired." Taako leans back against the counter and digs a generous spoonful out of the avocado. "Y'all should thank me, by the way, I just got you off the hook with Death."

Merle makes a face. "Wha?"

"Hold up," Magnus says, "pretty sure the Temporal Chalice is why we skipped the whole perma-dying thing."

Taako swallows and says, "Listen, I'll explain later, I got maybe three brain cells to rub together right now."

Merle rolls his eyes as he opens one of the lower cupboards. "Well, when our unsung hero needs his beauty sleep, he can drink a mouthful of this." Merle holds out a small stoppered bottle of something moss green. "Just make sure you're lying down, this stuff doesn't mess around."

Taako finishes breakfast, ignores all further questions as to what the hell he was on about, then retreats to his room with the little bottle and a large glass of water. He shuts and locks his door, bends down to pick his Stone up off the rug, and sits on the edge of his bed. Sips his water as he thinks about what exactly he's going to say.

He flicks open the attunement list and scrolls through the spell. Hesitates for just a moment longer before tapping a name with his thumb.

Kravitz picks up almost at once. "I'll admit I wasn't expecting to hear from you quite so quickly," he says, with a tone of cheerful surprise that Taako feels in his chest.

"Eh. Wasn't really in the mood to waste time," Taako says. "Life's short, amiright?"

Kravitz chuckles. "Not the usual sentiment I hear from Elves, but yes, I suppose it is."

"So listen, there's this new place that opened up a couple months back," Taako says. "Basically you show up, drink wine and throw pottery. Like on a wheel," he adds, aware of how nervous he sounds but pushing right the hell through it. "You know, vases and shit. It's on the base, right? Like on the moon, just Bureau cats. So we could talk about work without it being a problem."

"While drinking wine," Kravitz says, "and making vases."

"Or bowls, look I'm not the boss of you."

Kravitz laughs and holy shit, the warm thrill behind Taako's sternum is getting a little stupid. "That sounds wonderful," he says. "When were you thinking?"

"When can you make it?"

"Hmmmm." The same thoughtful hum as before, and Taako can hear the smile in it. "Will you laugh if I say Friday night? Is that too soon?"

"No," Taako says, immediate. Transparently eager and not caring, not giving a single shit.

"Perfect."

"Wear something you can get clay on," Taako says. "I'm messy."

"I like messy," Kravitz says. "It's a date, then?"

"Guess so."

"Good." A happy sigh. "I'll see you soon, Taako."

"See you," Taako agrees, and flicks the call closed. 

He hangs the stone back on his headboard while he downs Merle's flask in one go. Then he kicks off his slippers, swings his legs around, and burrows down under his covers. 

A warm weight of sleepiness descends almost immediately, heavy and soothing and blissfully uncomplicated. Gently relentlessly sanding down the rough edges of anxiety, the worst of the fear in his gut. Not just a sleeping spell, then, and bless Merle for that. 

Taako closes his eyes; surrenders, grateful, to blankness and dark.

*

After a medium-amount of agonizing Taako decides on a fitted shirt in earth-tone florals, olive shorts that hit him mid-thigh, and buttery brown loafers. Hair gathered into an artfully untidy bun. Cute enough to satisfy his standards for a first date, compatible with sitting at a pottery wheel, easy to get out of in a hurry should the opportunity arise. Which Taako’s still not sure he’s up for, honestly, but he prefers to keep his options open.

He leaves his Stone where it is -- hung on the headboard, an ominous todo list with a single item he has no desire to deal with. Untouched since the call with Kravitz.

He ate dinner with the guys before ducking into his room to get changed, and they're still in the common area when he breezes back out again — Merle standing on his step stool in front of the sink, elbow-deep in soapy water; Magnus lounging on the couch with some nerd book about Thieves' Cant.

Merle looks up at the sound of Taako's door closing and whistles appreciatively. "Where you off to, kid?"

Taako almost snaps out a "Nunya" on reflex, but swallows it back down. He snuck around for months last time, and where'd it get him? It's not like Magnus and Merle didn't know perfectly well he was fucking some guy; all he did was throw a giant awkward wrench in their training chatter. 

"Date," Taako says crisply. 

Magnus sits up, the book tossed aside. "Hold the fuck on, with _who_?" He beams. "Is it that-"

"Not him," Taako snips. Then, gentler and with an effort at smiling, "New guy."

"Gotta be someone we know, right?" Merle says. "Small moon and all that."

"Yeah, actually, uh...You remember that fella in the suit who’s also a skeleton?"

Magnus cocks his head to one side, his brows furrowing. "You mean...Death."

"Yep."

"You're going on a date with _Death._ "

"He prefers ‘Kravitz,’ listen it's not like you go around calling me 'Reclaimer,' be cool."

"Please tell me you're bringing your umbrella," Magnus says. "And maybe a chaperone." He throws aside the afghan covering his feet and levers himself off the couch. "Yeah come to think of it hows about I just tag along, you won't even notice I'm there unless he tries to reap you."

Taako had actually considered the Umbra Staff a reasonable precaution, but hearing Magnus say it like that makes the whole idea sound ridiculous. "I'm not scared of him," Taako says. "He’s a nice guy, it’ll be fine."

"A nice polite literal Grim Reaper."

Their private elevator opens right into the apartment, masquerading as a normal door beside the coat rack. Taako presses the button to call it with calculated nonchalance. "Don't be racist against skeletons," he says. "And don't wait up."

"Fine," says Magnus. "But you gotta promise to tell us you're not dead before you catch that train to Bone Town."

Merle cackles. "Nicely done."

"I thought so," says Magnus.

"Y'all are both fired," Taako says, although without any real heat. The elevator chooses that moment to ping, and he waves back over his shoulder as he steps through the doors.

The Chug ‘n Squeeze is tucked in amongst the Bureau’s administrative offices -- apparently some enterprising soul had convinced the Director that “extracurriculars” were more important than having a backup conference room. Taako chooses a route through the building that keeps him well clear of corridors he’s familiar with; where he’s spent a humiliating number of afternoons. The avoidance helps a little but really, all these halls and doorways look the same. And why else was he ever here except to...

There’s a little sandwich board standing on the hallway carpet, announcing “Cab and Vase” night in bright yellow chalk. Taako can see through the open door that it’s a full house -- mostly randos, although he spots Carey and Killian back by the windows. Only a couple wheels still open, but that’s fine. He sincerely fucking doubts they’d turn him away regardless, but he did actually bother to put his name in for once -- Taako plus “guest.” Which had felt strange to write on the signup sheet but also...

Nice? A relief, maybe. Certainly different.

“Taako?”

He looks up. Smiles and says, “Hey there, handsome,” as Kravitz strolls into view. He must’ve portaled to some empty office, although honestly any effort on his part to be low-key is pretty much doomed from inception. There are maybe two hundred people on this moon, and every one of them but Kravitz is wearing a bracer. That, and Taako’s pretty sure that if there’d been a new hire who was this smoking hot, the whole Bureau would’ve known within like half a day. Sexy fish, small pond, etc.

Kravitz grins and strides right up to him, an absolute vision in slim black slacks, silk shirt and silver bangles. All of which could not be less practical for throwing clay around but who the fuck cares, who gives half a shit when he’s leaning in to press cool lips to Taako’s cheek, a hand resting just long enough on Taako’s waist to fuel several vivid imaginings. 

“You’re looking fit,” Kravitz says as he withdraws to a more chaste distance. “Big plans?”

“Little too soon to tell,” Taako drawls with a smirk. “Gotta say, though, early signs are real promising.”

Kravitz laughs and offers a crooked elbow. “Shall we, then?”

Taako loops an arm through his. “Okay but listen, fair warning, didn’t exactly get you a hall pass,” Taako says, nonchalant, as they walk through the doorway together. “Technically maybe not supposed to have you here, guards may storm in at any moment.”

“Well, I do enjoy spontaneity,” Kravitz muses, leading them both to an open spot near the front.

“Are we talking just in the context of private security forces or-?”

Kravitz grins sideways at Taako, looking up from under criminally gorgeous lashes. Purrs, “I expect you’ll find out soon enough,” in a tone that sings up Taako’s spine.

*

It's a good date. Really good, actually. They kill a bottle of wine between them. Talk about work, yeah, but also other things. How Kravitz trained as a musician for years before his life -- and the end of it -- took an unexpected turn. About Taako's vague worry as to what the hell he'll do with himself once this gig is over. Taako antagonizes the instructor by refusing to follow directions. Kravitz blithely sidesteps polite questions as to who he is and how he can be sitting here, having an amicable chat about the absolutely-definitely-Void-Fished fallout from the latest Relic mission.

They're in public, and Taako isn't completely without shame, but. The wine and the mood, the way that Kravitz smiles at him; the feel of his hands under Taako's palms, cool and slick with wet clay; their thighs pressed together, the soft fabric of Kravitz's trousers against Taako's bare skin. All of this draws him in, pulls him close and keeps him there. His mouth by Kravitz's ear as he murmurs some idiot joke -- an excuse for nearness, forgotten as soon as it's said -- and lingers through the laughter that follows. Ghosts his lips over soft skin. Leans his chest flush with Kravitz's back as he reaches forward for his glass and then stays there -- all tucked up together -- sipping amber wine. All of it absolutely blatant, fuel heaped on the fires of office gossip, but Taako can’t bring himself to care. Not now, after everything. 

Kravitz's vase and Taako's rebellion bowl are set to dry on the racks. Taako winks obviously at Killian and Carey across the room, and curls an arm around Kravitz's narrow waist as they slip away into the hall. Of course he'll have to explain himself eventually, but not tonight. Tonight he's gonna ride this wave of alcohol and chemistry and see where it takes him. He won't worry. He won't think.

The wine has blurred a few intended boundaries, and Taako allows himself to fall back into old paths through the building, pulling Kravitz along familiar halls that he knows will be empty at this time of night. His hand flat over Kravitz's hip, muscle and bone moving under his palm in a rhythm that pulls him under like a riptide, a current of lust and promise. 

He likes this guy. Really, really likes this guy, and why not go with that? Why not be swept away?

"So what's your deal exactly?" Taako murmurs. 

Kravitz chuckles, and Taako feels a hand slip into his back pocket. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

Taako hums, a show of serious thought. "Never gone on a date with a ghost cop before-"

"Not a ghost, not a cop."

"-And I just wanna know what I'm in for." Taako leans in to nuzzle the shaved side of Kravitz's head. "Kinda map out this hot Reaper landscape."

A real laugh, rich and warm. "Are you asking if I'm up for a shag?"

Taako's lips wander to Kravitz's temple. "I'm not... _not_ asking that..." 

"I'm a thorough construction," Kravitz says, amused. "All the bits and bobs, all doing what you'd expect."

Taako's hand slides inward, fingertips tracing the valley between hip and thigh. They're alone in this hallway, likely the only ones left in this wing so late on a Friday. He asks, low and quiet, "So are you?"

The hand tucked into Taako's pocket curves around his ass. "Am I what?" Kravitz asks, with a tone that suggests he knows exactly what.

They turn a corner onto another empty hall, and Taako pushes him over and back, presses him up against the wall. Fences Kravitz in with his arms, alert for any sign that he's misunderstood, or moved beyond what's wanted.

Kravitz looks up at him with wide yellow eyes. Smiles again and tugs him near. "Am I what, Taako?"

They're in a hallway in a darkened office building, out in the open. Out where anyone could walk by if they were working late. If _he_ was working late, as he so often does.

Taako squashes that thought by leaning in to whisper into Kravitz's ear. "Up for a ‘shag?’"

Hands deep in both pockets, now, holding Taako close. Warmer than they were before, as if a fire's been kindled inside that narrow chest, heat spreading out along his limbs out to his fingertips. "How about you kiss me," Kravitz murmurs, "and we'll see how things develop."

Taako's hands slide along Kravitz's flanks, up the angles of spine and shoulder blades, as he leans in. As he tilts his head to one side, his eyes half-lidded, and kisses Kravitz's mouth. 

Everything about this is different. Lips soft and full and uninterrupted. Jaw smooth and rounded as Taako cups it in his hand. A slim graceful man in the cage of his arms, pinned against the wall by his body and his mouth. Nothing like it was with-

"We should go," Taako murmurs, urgent. Aware of the carpeting, the quality of the light; an unwanted memory of rug-burned knees.

Kravitz's tongue darts out to taste his lips. "Go where?"

"My place. My room."

"Mmm." Kravitz kisses the corner of his mouth. "Tempting."

"Good."

"Very tempting, but-"

"Nooooooooo no buts," Taako says, an agonized groan.

"But," Kravitz says again, deliberate. Still close, still holding him. "I'll admit that it's been quite a while for me, Taako, but certain things have stayed the same over the centuries." He rests his forehead against Taako's chin. "A week, you said."

"Two weeks," Taako says, trying for levity. "It's been two weeks, that's a whole 'nother ball game. Different league."

"Taako-"

"Listen, it wasn't even really a breakup," he says, wine-loosened words pouring out before he can think better of them. Aimed at his own idiot self as much as Kravitz. "We weren't even dating, it's fine. Just a hookup that didn't work out, Taako's all good. Deffo not a problem."

"I'm not certain how I feel about this backslide into the third person."

"Krav, come on," Taako says. Reaches up to brush his knuckles along the skin beneath Kravitz's ear. Kravitz, who’s _here_ , who’s with him now. "We both want this. Why overthink it?"

Kravitz shifts to press his face to Taako's neck; sighs against his skin. "I _do_ want to shag you, is the thing," he says, slow and reluctant. "Rather badly."

"Krav, you're killing me here."

Kravitz's hands slide along Taako's hips and up his stomach, until they're pressed flat to his chest between them. He pushes, gently, and Taako leans away far enough for their eyes to meet. "I asked for the evening off," Kravitz says. "The entire thing, a colleague agreed to be on call."

"Seems a shame to waste it."

Kravitz chews on his lip."We aren't having sex tonight."

"Define sex."

Kravitz rolls his eyes, good humored, and ticks the rules off on his fingers. "No penetration, no orgasms, bits remain covered, and I reserve the right to make calls regarding handsiness in context."

Taako laughs, although his ears are burning from having it all laid out so plainly, and from the images that immediately followed. "Yeah, that's fair," he says, and means it, even as he pictures Kravitz writhing underneath him; how that smooth voice might break apart under Taako’s fingers, slick and pushed inside him, how it-

Kravitz’s voice snaps him back again. "No sex," he says again, quieter, and settles his hands at Taako's waist. "But I'd like to stay the night, if you'll have me."

"What, just..." Taako chuckles, half-hard and abruptly nervous. "Like a sleepover."

"I suppose that's a word for it."

Taako swallows through the tightness in his throat. Kravitz is right, he knows. He wants this too badly. He needs it too much, and not for good reasons. Not for any reason he'd want to even talk about, to Kravitz or anyone else. 

He asks, a little hoarse, "You'll stay in my bed?"

"Yes."

"All night."

Kravitz tilts up his chin and leans in close; kisses Taako's mouth and says, quietly, "If you'll have me."

"Can't think of anything I'd rather have, handsome," Taako murmurs. Steps away and takes Kravitz by the wrist, warm under his fingers. 

"I can..." Kravitz gestures that small black knife into existence again. "If you'd rather be discreet."

"I got nothing to hide," Taako says. And Kravitz is laughing as Taako shifts his hand to knit their fingers together. The knife dissolves away into smoke, and Taako leads him through the next few turns, through doubled glass doors and back out onto the quad. Stars and the sound of nighttime insects, distant laughter, wind in the trees.

The common room is empty and dark when they spill out of the elevator, Kravitz's shirt tails pulled out of his trousers, the memory of his bare stomach fresh in Taako's mind. Taako throws back his head and crows, "Hey, I'm home! I'm alive! If either of you assholes knock on my door before noon tomorrow I'll turn you into fuckin toads I swear to _god_!"

"Toads?" Kravitz giggles into his neck.

"Shut up I'm drunk," Taako mutters, playing at annoyance as he fumbles with his keys. It's hard to unlock a door when he doesn't really want to untangle himself from the wine-loosened man in his arms, kissing an exploratory trail up his neck as he finally manages to cram the right key into place.

And then, at last, the privacy of his own room. The door shut behind him and no reason not to get down to the real business of the night.

"Okay so, I can't fuck you but..." He noses around under Kravitz's jaw, both his hands pushed up under that silk shirt, palms sliding over the softest goddamn skin in the world. "Mmmmmmmhowsabout you ditch whatever threads you're gonna and we go from there."

"These aren't my work clothes," Kravitz chuckles, "you'll have to..." A yelp as Taako bites his neck. "Budge up so I can undressed, you menace."

Laughter and twined limbs as they kick off their shoes and fall onto the bed, Kravitz underneath and Taako over him on hands and knees. Kissing again, greedy and breathless and fumbling with each other's buttons. 

A sharp flash of starched cotton under his fingers, of a broader chest and coarse dark hair. Taako winces against the angle of Kravitz's collarbone. "Too much pants," he says, willful, and tugs at Kravitz's waistband. "Wait, you've got the 'pants mean underwear' accent, shit...trousers? Off with the trousers, not allowed."

Kravitz lifts his ass obligingly, and laughs as Taako yanks his trousers down and off and throws them with unnecessary force across the room. "House rules?"

"Moon Law, out of my hands." Taako shimmies his own shorts down past his hips, grateful that he'd elected to wear something under them for once. Kravitz's mouth is open and warm and soft, his whole body pliant and willing as the two of them wriggle down under the covers. In between the cool sheets that Taako blessedly forced himself to straighten before he'd headed out that night, just in case.

Just in case he ended up right here, laying on top of Kravitz with his hands pushed into tight springy curls, both of them stripped down to date night underthings -- scant black silk for Kravitz and practically-transparent white low-rise briefs for Taako. Skin against skin, his tongue in Kravitz's mouth and his thigh between Kravitz's legs. He grinds their hips together -- pushes Kravitz down into the mattress, into his pillow where he slept the night before, startling newness in this well-worn place -- and feels the hot hard evidence of just how tempting he's made himself. Scoops a hand down around the curve of Kravitz's ass and digs in his fingers, rolls his groin forward until Kravitz moans into his mouth.

He wants this. He _wants_ this. He wants the novelty and the distraction, he wants to feel good and to be wanted himself, to be _wanted_ without the worry and the artifice, without that crushing weight of "what the hell even is this?" sitting on his chest. 

He knows what this is. 

"I like you," he says against Kravitz's throat, hands kneading the backs of slim thighs.

Kravitz chuckles. "Yes, well I gathered."

"You can stay."

"I should hope so, or I've drastically misread things."

"My very first overnight pal," Taako murmurs, then snaps his jaw shut. Freezes for a heartbeat, a rigid arch over Kravitz's body, until he forces his way out the other side and flops down next to Kravitz on the bed with exaggerated carelessness. Blurts into the silence that follows, "Seriously, he was such a weirdo, he never even came down here. Like not once, so it's fine, right? Breaking new ground, nothing to-"

"Taako." Kravitz turns and curls against him, one leg brought up to hook around his. A hand on Taako's stomach. "What happened?"

Shit. _Shit_. "Gonna have to be more specific."

Kravitz's hand drifts up to the center of his chest; to lay, palm splayed, over his heart. "Who was he?" Kravitz murmurs. "A coworker? How long were you seeing each other?"

Taako stares up at the ceiling. He's warm and comfortable. Hard, although the change of subject's ramped that down a bit. The dread and unease are still there but damped; muffled by the smell of Kravitz's hair, the press of his body and his steadying hand. 

Taako's fine. He'll be _fine_ , but. "You don't wanna hear about this."

"I won't force the subject," Kravitz says, quiet and serious. "But if I'm honest... I'd rather have you tell me what happened than be left to piece together odd fragments. I don't much enjoy this sort of mystery."

Hell. "Yeah, he was a coworker," Taako sighs, resigned. Rubs the heel of his free hand into his eyes. How to explain this? What _should_ he explain? That he spent the last few months getting thrown around on purpose? That he'd been slapped and gagged and choked, humiliated and used, and that he'd loved it? That he'd begged for it? That he'd dreamed of the man who'd done these things to him; imagined, in shameful unguarded moments, what it could be like to do other things, too? How it might feel to be _people_ , unalloyed, together out in the world?

He swallows; drops his hand to the bed. "Fuck, Krav, I dunno," he says. "We hooked up at a retreat. We messed around for a few months. Then shit got weird so I bounced."

Kravitz's thumb draws slow soothing circles. "Weird how?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Taako..." Kravitz shifts beside him, and he feels a kiss on his cheek. "I like you, too," Kravitz says, softer and very near. "Rather a lot. More than I expected to, while I'm being frank." 

"That so?" Taako says, trying for sultry. "Well, I'd-"

Kravitz thwaps him gently. "Not done, hush."

"Mm."

"If I'm going to rearrange my life to date a mortal," Kravitz says, "I'd prefer to know going in what sort of 'weird' is a deal-breaker for him."

"That's..." Taako huffs a sigh. "Infuriatingly fair. Fuck."

"So?"

"Fuck," Taako says again, resigned. Rests his fingertips on Kravitz's arm and idly runs them over the sharp point of his elbow. "Listen, for real though... there's not a whole lot to say about it. Shit wasn't ever gonna go anywhere with us, not in the long run. Like if we'd kept it casual it prolly would've been fine for a while, but we beefed it real good, I guess!" A harsh exhausted laugh. "Jesus. Yeah, we got in way too deep. Things got messy. It was gonna drag out into this whole big drama and like, fuck that, right? So."

"So you broke up," Kravitz says, gentle. Cautious.

“You break up with a boyfriend, that's not what this was. No, really," he says when Kravitz opens his mouth to argue, "it's not like he sat me down or whatever, we just. You know. Stopped.” He draws in a deep breath. Holds it. Blows it out as a long low whistle. "That's it, that's all I got."

Kravitz reaches up to cup Taako's jaw; to turn his head until eyes meet in the dark. "Is that what you want from me? Something casual?"

A blush prickles along Taako's ears. "You can't just ask a guy-"

"Oh no, sorry, already did," Kravitz murmurs.

"How's about we go back to the part with the making out and the not words," Taako says, "I liked that part."

Kravitz nestles in closer. "I can manage casual," he says. He kisses Taako's chin. "If pressed."

Taako snorts and nudges Kravitz's shoulder. "Listen, if you're gonna make me do this at least let me big spoon you." Kravitz chuckles and rolls over, obliging, and Taako scoots up behind him with a sigh of real relief. This, too, is different. Different and very good. He curls an arm around Kravitz's middle, nuzzles the close-cropped hair at the base of his skull. 

"Better?"

"Mm." Taako kisses the back of Kravitz's neck and tucks his knees up closer. "I like you."

"So you said."

"I, um...." He swallows. "Not in the...not in the hookup way."

"All right."

"It's been, ah...a really long time.” 

"For me as well," Kravitz says softly. "Likely longer, considering."

The wine is catching up with him, now. And the week of restless nights. And Refuge. And everything. All the lust and urgency draining from him, leaving an exhausted silhouette behind. "I don't know what I'm doing," he says. 

"That's fine."

"I fucked things up, I think. Like... like _really_ fucked them up." He swallows. "It, um. It went pretty bad. At the end."

"Did he-"

"No," Taako says, not wanting to even hear the question. Not sure he could bear it. "No, he was fine. I was stupid." He kisses Kravitz's neck again; concentrates on here, on _now_. "I don't think I wanna talk about this anymore."

A hand closes over his own. "All right."

He _doesn't_ want to talk about it. Not to Kravitz. Not to anyone. He wouldn't know where the hell to even start, and what's the point in trying? He's done. It's done. "I'm tanking this entire goddamn evening," he mutters.

"You're tired," Kravitz says, affectionate. "You should sleep."

"Yeah but-"

"You can ravish me in the morning."

Taako laughs softly into Kravitz's hair. "That a promise?"

"Yes, actually."

"Nice." 

Taako looks past the swell of Kravitz's shoulder, to the knob at the end of his headboard. To the chain that's hung there, and the Stone that dangles from it. He chews on his lip. "...Fuck it."

"Pardon?" Kravitz says, then makes an indignant noise of protest as Taako pushes himself up on one arm.

"Just... hang on." Taako reaches over Kravitz, catches the chain in his fingers and lifts it free. 

"Seems an odd time to make a call."

"Har har." Taako lays down again and settles under the covers. Holds the stone between him and the back of Kravitz's head. Flicks through spells with his thumb until he finds the glowing icon of an opened scroll. 

He swipes the message out of existence before he can second guess himself. Away and out of reach. A door closed. Another weight lifted.

He tosses the stone into the pile of their clothes. "Do you eat?"

"Occasionally."

"I'll make you breakfast." Taako snuggles in again, his eyes drifting closed. "I'm good at that."

"You're good at plenty of things."

"Mmm." He burrows his face in the dip between shoulder blades. "Yeah, true."

"Modest, as well."

"Shh." He lifts a lazy hand to press a finger to Kravitz's lips. "No talk."

Kravitz laughs, very soft, and kisses Taako’s finger. “Might I request permission for one final statement?”

“Will I like it?”

“I should hope so.“

Taako rubs his cheek against Kravitz’s skin. “Mmmmgranted.”

“I had a lovely evening,” Kravitz says. And when Taako snorts, disbelieving, he kicks his heels back in a playful rebuke and adds, “No really, I haven’t a single complaint.”

“No accounting for taste, I guess.”

Kravitz’s hand closes over his own. “You’re lovely.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m very glad to be here.”

Taako sighs and curls up closer, up into the shape of him. Here in his own bed, his own room, as his thoughts begin to blur together. As the ache of not knowing quiets and softens, sinks down and away from him in this warm molasses dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Can't Run But](https://youtu.be/znfNpN6rfoM), by Paul Simon.
> 
> Many thanks to RQT for the beta and encouragement, and to the whole IWTB crew for their help and support while I hammered this out.
> 
> And MANY MANY MANY thanks to the Krav-fans amongst our readers who have patiently waited SIX ENTIRE MONTHS for our boy to show up. Here he is! I love him? I LOVE HIM.
> 
> [@Wildgoosery](https://twitter.com/wildgoosery)


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